


Sleep

by Jinmukang



Series: Whumptober 2020 [23]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Captivity, Collars, Drowning, Exhaustion, Hallucinations, Isolation, Shock Collars, Sleep Deprivation, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Unethical Experimentation, Whumptober 2020, no.23
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27157703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinmukang/pseuds/Jinmukang
Summary: Tim wakes up captive and wearing a shock collar.Then, his captors don't let him fall back asleep.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent (mentioned)
Series: Whumptober 2020 [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946413
Comments: 10
Kudos: 241
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> I accidentally posted this yesterday instead of saving it as a draft so yay for that. 
> 
> Anyway, hope y'all enjoy this one!

The water is ice cold. It immediately steals his breath as Tim instinctively tries to flinch away. He knows it's useless by now… his captors have done this enough times to where he knows they already have a good enough grasp on his arms and head to keep him under. Water assaults every single one of his senses, stinging his eyes and filling his nose and ears. He tries to hold his breath, tries to save what little strength he has left, but the water is _freezing_. 

He doesn't last as long this time as he did the others. He has a pretty good guess as to why. It's the reason he's being dunked for the third time in a little over thirty-six hours. His lungs jolts and his heart races, he accidentally gasps and sucks in water.

He chokes, panic seeping through his skin into his chest, but the drowning doesn't last a moment longer after that. He's yanked up by his bruised arms and thrown to the ground, coughing and gagging up water. 

By the time he's able to calm down enough to wipe water from his eyes and look up, they're gone. The tank they just used to drown him has been rolled off, and he's left alone in the middle of the cell, dripping wet and shivering. 

He wishes they'd talk to him. Explain why they're doing this. He tried to demand answers… _hours_ ago, but now all he has the energy to do is crawl to the wall and try to stick his shivering fingers between his neck and the shock collar locked around it. 

It goes off whenever his heart beat drops too low. They bring in the tank whenever the collar doesn't wake him up enough. 

He curls his fingers around his sore arms and tries to find something to keep him awake. There isn't much in the cell to do, especially with the low level of energy he has. The palm of his hands sting from where he's been pressing a screw into his skin whenever he felt his eyes slipping closed, but they confiscated that along with the bedframe he got it from when he tried to fight them with it. 

He's not even sure why they gave him a bed in the first place. Not like he's going to be using it. 

He sighs, coughs, and digs his fingers deeper under the collar. He's tried everything to get it off, even the screw, but nothing has worked. There's a viscous burn under his jaw where the electricity comes from. He's pretty sure the two metal conductors have pierced his skin and cauterized itself. 

Which is bad. Really bad. He can't risk an infection like that. Not while he's running on negative hours of sleep and his immune system is already compromised. 

He's bored. His head aches. There's nothing to do. His neck hurts. He's so, _so_ tired. 

Tired to the point where if he blinks, he might keep his eyes closed for a moment too long and not be able to open them back up until electricity shoots through his veins. It's a strange feeling to have. It feels like insomnia but twenty times worse. He's sure all the tea, coffee, and Red Bull's in the world wouldn't be able to fully wake him up.

He blinks for a moment too long. His eyes stay closed. His brain quiets without him even realizing.

He wakes up not a second later with his neck on fire. 

He twitches on the ground for a few seconds, catching his breath and trying not to hit something in frustration. 

Damn it. _Damn_ it. 

-o-o-o-o-

There's a man… watching him. Tim's lost track of time. He can barely focus. Everything hurts. 

At first, he wasn't even sure if the man was real. He's been hallucinating for the last… maybe hour? He can't know for sure. But there's shadows, stalking him out the corners of his eyes. Jaws gaping. Limbs dripping. Eyes glowing red. 

The man's real. Tim knows this because all he's doing is sitting on his little stool he brought in with him and watching. The shadows creep. They lunge then back away playfully. The friendlier looking ones—the ones that almost look like friendlier and familiar faces—turn and leave.

The man's real. And he's just sitting there. Watching. Tim desperately wants to know what's going on. Why he's here. But he can't do more than shift against the wall he's been leaning against since forever. His vision swarms and somewhere at the back of his mind, he knows he can't close his eyes to correct it. Not yet. He can't close his eyes.

He wakes up a moment later from a violent shock to his neck. Tim curls up and twitches, barely even hearing the man click his pen against a clipboard to scribble something. 

All he's aware of is the burning in his neck and the congestion in his throat. The points where metal digs into his neck fester. His lungs still feel abused from the last dunking session. 

It takes him a moment to look back up at the man—who's not wearing a mask… it's bad if kidnappers don't wear masks, isn't it? He can't recall… anyway the man is _looking_ at him with a grin on his previously disinterested face. Tim realizes duly that he was waiting for Tim to fall asleep and shock himself.

The man snaps his fingers, and Tim straightens his gaze at him, not having realized his line of sight has shifted. 

"You keep looking to your right. Is there any reason for that?" 

And woah. Tim really didn't think he'd miss the sound of another human being's voice until now. Even though this guy is clearly in on Tim's torture, Tim's still feeling this… strange sense of loneliness he hasn't felt in a long time. Not since he was abandoned in his house. Not since Tim Drake was no one special. When Robin was a pipe dream. His eyes drift towards the shadowed form of a big, big man with bat-like ears. The man turns and walks away. 

"There you go again," the man says, bringing Tim's sluggish thoughts back from the fake. He's smiling. Why is he so amused? "What are you seeing?"

"S… walkin' way…"

Tim blinks. Did he… really answer? He grabs at the collar and curls up. He wants to close his eyes so badly. Sleep. Ignore the shadows. Sleep. _Ignore the shadows_ . _Sleep_ . But he can't. He can't because the collar will hurt him until his body decides it wants to ignore it. The collar will hurt him until _they_ come back with the water to restart every single one of his nerves. 

"Who's walking away?"

How long has it been? He looks at the shadows. One is really short. Arms long and sharp like swords. Eyes slanted and white like a mask. Black fire spreads from it's back like a flowing cape. 

There's one standing besides it. Skinny. But spindly. Contorting. It moves like silk. A comforting, soft flame surrounds it like an aura. But it's eyes are a judgmental, piercing blue. A sharp shadowed smile with sharp shadowed teeth. 

Dick puts his hand on Damian's shoulder, and they walk away. 

They all walk away. 

Something snaps. Tim looks away from nothing towards the man. He's leaning forward with his hand stretched out, like he's about to snap. Again? Snap again. He already snapped. 

Has Tim snapped?

"Are you having trouble concentrating?" The man asks. Tim forced himself to focus on him. Anything other than the moving forms stalking around him like he's a rabbit in a lion's den. "I only have a few more questions."

"M'… wan~na sleep. Wuh… d'ya want?" Tim's mouth doesn't want to work. He's so tired. The collar itches. He's really hungry. 

"Just a few more questions, Red Robin."

Red Robin. Oh. Oh yeah. He's in his costume. A mask on his face. He was captured. Somehow. He can't... Can't remember. He can't trust this man. He shouldn't talk. He curls his fingers into the collar and tries to glare. 

Glaring works. The shadows back off. The man, however, perks. 

The man writes something in his clipboard. "On a scale of one to ten, how paranoid do you feel?"

What is this? Therapy? Tim should probably take therapy. Is he taking therapy? He's so tired. The shadows keep moving. Paranoid. Bruce is paranoid. He should tell the man that, cuz if this is therapy he should be honest, right? 

The collar itches. Itches because he's captive. He's not at therapy. He shakes his head. It's so hard to focus. Paranoid. He can't focus enough to be paranoid. 

"How about your libido? Have you noticed it fluctuate?"

Tim wants to sleep. He can't remember what libido… leb… what lid… what did he ask? 

Therapy. He's at therapy. 

The shadows turn away. Run at him. He flinches. 

His collar itches. He closes his eyes for a moment too long, and he wakes up with a shock, the click of a pen, and a small sigh. 

"Do you have any suicidal thoughts?"

Tim can't help it. He laughs. He wants to joke and say when _hasn't he_ ? But then he remembers _cape_ and _captive_ and _abduction_.

Libido is a funny word. Libido! He asked libido. Tim laughs. 

"Leebee… nnnooo."

"Hmm, maybe I should come back when you're… more awake. I have the boys on an ice run."

Tim stops laughing there. Ice. Tim hates ice. He hates water. He shakes his head. "M'fine… nnnnot thirsty… tired…"

The man stands up. Tim hates it. He wants him to sit down. Come back. Talk with him more. Let him sleep. 

The man stands up. He turns and walks away. 

They all walk away. 

Tim wakes up a moment later from a shock to his neck and he wants to cry. 

-o-o-o-o-

More awake is a suggestive word. Is Tim more awake like this? His lungs burning for air? Ice assaulting every sense? Gagging on water and not being able to breath? Thrown to the floor to cough and throw up, then blink frozen drops from his lashes?

Yeah. He's a little more awake. But not by much. 

The man asks his questions anyway, as Tim trembles on the ground and tries to not focus on Jason screaming in his ear that he's nothing special. Tim already knows. It's been so long. He doesn't need a hallucination to tell him things he already knows. 

"Are you hallucinating?" 

Yeah. Tim is hallucinating. But the thing about being more awake is that he's just awake enough to know to not answer this psychopath. 

"Who was walking away?"

Everyone. Everyone walks away eventually. Leaves Tim alone. They're not coming. He knows. They won't bother. 

"What about your libido? Any urges?"

What a stupid question. Show Tim a picture of his boyfriend and maybe he'll be able to answer. He misses Kon. 

"Suicidal thoughts?"

Tim breaks down crying. He hates this. He hates this so much. He really wants to sleep. He really _really_ wants to sleep and never wake up. 

The man sighs. He stands up. He walks away. 

-o-o-o-o-

When Tim finds Damian standing in front of him, face pulled into strange features that could almost be worry, the first thing he thinks is _what_ a strange hallucination this is. Normally, when he sees fake Damian, the brat is demonic and vile. Blood oozing from his tear ducts. His lips stretching into a demon's sneer.

But this Damian is… normal. He looks like how Tim remembers the little gremlin to look. But worry is new too. 

"I found him," Damian mutters into his comm. Then, he turns his eyes towards Tim and sets his mouth into a wobbling frown. "Timothy…?"

 _Drake_. Someone sneers and Tim flinches. Closes his eyes. Wakes up from an electric shock. 

And gremlin Damian is still there, eyes wide and mouth open, staring down at Tim's neck with… sickening realization. 

"How long… have you been kept awake this whole time?"

Tim nods his head and clutches the collar with his numb fingers. Nods because he's awake awake awake awake and he'll always be awake and he'll _die_ awake. 

Gremlin Damian scowls. Reaches forward to grab Tim's hands. Tim tries to fight off the hallucination. They haven't- they haven't been able to _touch_ him before. But he can feel it. Gentle fingers on his wrists, pulling his hands away from the collar so Damian can bring his free hand to his neck. Tim's heart speeds up. Maybe it's still slow, but to him it feels like a wardrum. 

He tries to cringe away. But it's useless. Damian brings his hand—which is holding a _knife—_ to Tim's neck. Tim wants to cry. He wants to sleep. He wants to die. He's so _done_. He's-

Pressure lets up from his neck with a painful tug. Tim chokes for a second, then brings his hands to his neck the moment Damian steps back. The collar hangs in his gloved hand. He throws it across the room while Tim rubs his sore neck. 

He can feel the charred skin where the electricity persistently entered his body whenever… whenever…

Can... Can he…?

"Rr… y… real?"

Damian's face softens. The shadows turn and walk away, but Damian sits down in front of him and looks so _genuine_. "Yes. I'm real. We're here."

And Tim… believes it. He has to. He can feel his neck. 

Can... Can he…?

"Hhh… hhoow… long..."

"Almost seven days."

Seven days. 

Tim's so tired. 

"Sleep, Timothy. We're here. All of us. Even that alien you like so much. It's okay now."

He can… can he… sleep?

His eyes close against his will, and for a terrifying moment he thinks something will hurt him for it… but his eyes stay closed and nothing hurts more than what it already does. His eyes stay closed and everything dulls. 

His eyes stay closed. Safe. Found. 

They came. And everything is okay now. 

His eyes stay closed and he sleeps. 

**Author's Note:**

> And then Tim wakes up in the biggest hug pile ever, safe and sound in the manor, and because miracles happen (and jin sometimes forgets about continuity) the infection Tim got wasn't that bad. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Perhaps you can spare a comment? I'd love it if you did.


End file.
